


i'm afraid that someone else will hear me

by alsoalsowik



Category: Figure Skating RPF
Genre: (ur welcome tag wranglers), F/M, Fluff, Marriage Proposal, Minor Angst, mentions of Ellen Degeneres
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-19
Updated: 2018-03-19
Packaged: 2019-04-04 17:07:01
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,863
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14024784
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alsoalsowik/pseuds/alsoalsowik
Summary: “Well then, we have you in two king rooms for two nights,” the manager says, holding two room keys. Tessa definitely notices how his face falls just slightly when he saystwo, but she chooses to ignore it. Neither the time nor place for some kind of reveal, to this total stranger.or, the night before they tapeEllen.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> this is clearly exactly what is happened yesterday night. 
> 
> wow, i so did not see myself writing this. a month ago, i'd never read RPF and now look at me. these damn canadians. anyways, this is incredibly fictional and really just an outlet for all of the feelings i have about tessa and scott. title from "the (shipped) gold standard" by fall out boy. hope you enjoy!
> 
> (shoutout to lauren n emma for egging me on to write this. i fully blame y'all.)

Los Angeles is hot, even in March. Tessa knows this, knew it when she packed, but she’s Canadian, goddammit, so the 70 degree afternoon still casts a dewy glow across her skin as she walks alongside Scott to their hotel. She still can’t believe they’re taping _Ellen_ tomorrow. They’re not celebrities, not really, so it was a monumental shock when their agent called them. Sure, Adam Rippon was on, but he’s both more interesting than the two of them and American. 

 

Scott didn’t stop quoting _Finding Nemo_ the whole flight. If he wasn’t so endearing, she might have smacked him.

 

“D’you think we should be wearing sunglasses?” Scott asks as doorman pulls an impressive looking glass door open for them. The chill of the hotel lobby makes Tessa shiver. 

 

“We’re inside,” she says, fishing through her purse for her wallet. 

 

“I know,” he continues, “but we’re in L.A. And we’re…celebrity-adjacent people checking into a hotel. In L.A.”

Tessa snorts. “Scotty, we’ve checked into hotels before. And we’re not—” she stops short, catching a glimpse of an iPhone pointed in their direction. “Being in L.A. makes no difference.” 

 

“You’re no fun,” Scott says, grabbing his wallet from his back pocket. He walks them to the check in desk, one hand at the small of her back. It’s a habit, something he’s done since they were teenagers because he’s a gentleman, but Tessa knows how it looks. 

 

She shouldn’t mind how it looks because it’s _them_ and they’ve come to an understanding, but, outside of Jordan and Danny and their parents, nobody else knows. Well. Knows for _sure._ Leslie Jones and half of the internet have an idea, but—

 

Maybe they should be wearing sunglasses, on second thought. 

 

“Checking in for Moir and Virtue,” Scott tells the hotel manager, sliding his ID across the polished wood counter. She’s always thought their names sound a little odd in that order, having been _Representing Canada, Tessa Virtue and Scott Moir_ for just over twenty years. Tessa slides her own across, noticing the manager’s face light up when he realizes who they are. 

 

“I loved you at the Olympics,” he says, customer service voice slipping into something casual. “My daughter made me watch _Moulin Rouge!_ the day after we saw you skate, actually.” 

 

Scott smiles. “Thanks! Yeah, we love that movie.” He looks at her in an approximation of what the press likes to call _heart-eyes_ , then adds, “Obviously.” 

 

“Well then, we have you in two king rooms for two nights,” the manager says, holding two room keys. Tessa definitely notices how his face falls just slightly when he says _two_ , but she chooses to ignore it. Neither the time nor place for some kind of reveal, to this total stranger. 

 

Besides, it’s nice having separate rooms, even if they’ll likely sleep in Scott’s. Two bathrooms means they can get ready at the same time. 

 

“Thank you so much,” Tessa says, grabbing a key and rolling her suitcase away without much else. Scott follows behind a minute later, catching her elbow at the elevators. 

 

“You okay?” he asks in the same voice he uses when they skate. Meant just for her. So they can keep up appearances. He does it for her benefit, she knows. If he had it his way, they’d speak at normal volumes, share a hotel room—

 

But they still have skating to do and Tessa was the one who said they needed to focus on the sport for this comeback. 

 

“It’s nothing,” she says. Scott tilts his head because of course he knows her better than she knows herself, but she nods and pushes the button for the elevator. 

 

Their rooms on the tenth floor are standard: a bed, tv, and desk each. Tessa hangs her garment bag for tomorrow, then sees the gift basket peeking out of the bathroom. Chocolate, more chocolate, and _Ellen_ underwear. Jesus. She’s willing to bet Scott has matching one in his room across the hall. She’ll ask when they meet up in half an hour, after she washes the city air from her face and changes into something less Hollywood and more Ilderton. 

 

28 and a half minutes later, Tessa sneaks across the hall to Scott’s room, rapping twice against the door, counting to three, then knocking three more times—the secret knock they’ve had since she was ten. He opens the door as soon as her knuckles leave the wood, like he was waiting just on the other side for her. 

 

“How’s your room?” he asks, wrapping an arm around her waist and walking her to his (their) bed. 

 

“Fine.” Tessa sits with an undignified _thud_ and leans back on her elbows. “Just like yours.”

 

Scott frowns. “Do you want to switch or something?”

 

“No, it’s really fine. Promise,” she says. The rooms are fine. The hotel is fine. It’s just that she can’t get Scott’s face after she told the world—or all of French-Canada—they weren’t dating on _Tout le monde en parle._ That, coupled with the way the hotel lobby felt like a panopticon, and the fact that Ellen DeGeneres is no doubt going to grill the shit out of them tomorrow is giving her a headache. But it’s not Scott’s fault.

 

Well, it is and it isn’t. They decided she would take the reins for The Question last week. Scott said he didn’t want to _lie,_ and Tessa said she’d keep it breezy. In the moment, it felt fine. She was joking with a talk show host, and Scott was laughing, until he wasn’t. Neither of them are fluent in French, but between her slow pronunciation and body language, he got it no problem. By now, she’s seen clips and, God. He looked sick to his stomach.

 

She didn’t lie, not really, but he didn’t know what exactly she was going to say and it probably hurt a little. She just wants them to have privacy, because they really aren’t celebrities. They’ve never _wanted_ to be celebrities. He’s just a boy from Ilderton and she’s just a girl from London. Someday, Tessa wants to get back to that.

 

“We need to go over our strategy for tomorrow,” she adds. “In detail, this time.”

 

“Yeah, okay,” Scott says, sitting beside her. “What do you want to say?” He’s always doing that, asking her what she wants and what she’s comfortable revealing. He did it right after they announced their comeback, after they started getting more and more media attention. After they established _business partners_ doesn’t even begin to scratch the surface of their relationship. 

 

After they all but moved in together. 

 

Does he think she’s ashamed of him? That she isn’t invested enough to go public? “What do you want to say?” Tessa asks, looking him straight in the eyes for the firs time since they checked in. 

 

He laughs a little, then knocks all the air out of her lungs. “If I had it my way, I’d tell the whole world I want to marry you, T.”

 

Tessa’s mouth falls open. Of all the things Scott could possibly say, she never thought— 

 

“Are you proposing right now?” she hears herself ask, legs folding underneath herself. Scott tilts his chin down but looks up at her anyways. 

 

“Depends on if you want me to.”

 

She sniffles, eyes suddenly wetter than on the podium in PyeongChang. Here comes that crying-laughing he loves so much. “Scotty, I’ve—I knew I wanted to marry you when I was seven years old.”

 

“You knew that early?” he asks, incredulous.

 

She nods. “I’ve been a little in love with you since the first time we skated together, Scott Moir.”

 

He shoots up like a character from a pop-up book. 

 

“What’s wrong?” Tessa asks, voice catching in her throat. For a terrifying second, she thinks he’s reconsidered. 

 

“Nothing! I just realized if we’re doing this I need something.” Scott unzips the front pocket of his suitcase and pulls out a black velvet box. A ring box. 

 

“When did…how long have you had that?” she asks, voice quivering again. 

 

He kneels in front of the bed and grabs the hand she doesn’t have clutched to the neckline of her t-shirt like a vice. “I can’t say I’ve known as long as you have, but I bought this ring right before we left for South Korea. Kept it in my parka the whole time.” His eyes are glossy, probably on the verge of crying, but he laughs through it like a true Moir and continues. “I was waiting for the right moment, but it never came. Not because I didn’t want to, but because I realized you’d want it to be the two of us. Virtue and Moir and that’s it.”

 

“Scott, I’d say yes _anywhere_ ,” Tessa says, and really, truly means it. On the podium, by the boards, in the parking lot, for all she cares. It hurts thinking he might not understand that.

 

“Are you saying yes right now?” Scott asks, eyes wide. 

 

Tessa barely gets out her attempt at a joke, “Depends on if you want me to,” before he’s leaning up to kiss her, tear-filled and sweet. He breaks away after just a second, leaning their foreheads together. For a long moment, they sit like that, breathing in each other’s air. It really feels like coming home. 

 

When she feels something cold sliding onto her finger, Tessa looks down and sees the ring, perfect and glittering. It’s small, just one diamond, but classic in its white gold setting and princess cut. 

 

“Wear it tomorrow, Tess,” Scott says, voice low. “Wear it and if anyone notices, I’ll tell them.”

 

Someone’s bound to. They’re dancing, in a studio with real lights that will no-doubt catch the facets of the diamond on her ring finger. Even if they don’t Ellen will see it. She’ll see it and ask and they’ll be all over the internet come Tuesday afternoon. It’s the opposite of privacy. 

 

But Scott looks so earnest, staring at her hand like he can’t believe what just happened. He presses his lips to her finger, just below the metal band, and she’s sunk. Tomorrow, she’ll let the outgoing Moir boy have his way. 

 

“Okay,” Tessa breathes. 

 

After all, marriage is all about compromise. Might as well get a head start. 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tessa, if you're reading this, you're welcome for the idea
> 
> i was not intending on writing this, but a LOT of you wanted it, so here you go! it's really weird writing dialogue for ellen degeneres, not gonna lie. this is clearly fictional because if it were real life, scott would have gone on for four paragraphs about how incredible tessa is before getting to the point, let's be real. (but you can bet i'll be closely inspecting ms. virtue's hands tomorrow!)
> 
> this little fandom is so sweet i'm honestly blown away at the response this got! thank you all and enjoy <3

“Congratulations on the gold medals,” Ellen says, sitting across from them, looking cool, calm, and collected. Tessa is none of those things, at least internally. They danced and it was great because dancing with Scott _always_ is, but she’s hyper-aware of her left hand, curled delicately around her knee. 

 

“Thank you so much,” Scott says. “It’s really an honor to be here—you know we’re Canadian so we don’t down here much.”

 

“You’re Canadian?” she responds in faux-shock. There it is, the humor and quick wit that’s kept her on the air for so long. The screen behind them flashes a picture of Scott from the women’s hockey final, in all his drunken, Canadian glory. “I never would’ve guessed!”

 

Tessa takes a breath, hoping she’s been smiling this whole time. There’s a massive crowd, all laughing and whooping in front of them, and it’s different than the one-on-one interviews she’s most used to. 

 

To be fair, she’s usually not hiding an engagement ring. 

 

Not hiding, exactly, but Tessa feels a lot less confident now that she’s caked in makeup and sweating a little under the stage lights. Taking a deep breath, she slips into Media Mode: 

 

“That was a big moment for Scott, actually!”

 

“Oh?” Ellen asks, somehow striking the perfect balance between a best friend and inquisitor. 

 

Tessa nods, leaning in a little. “It’s the first time in twenty years I let him skip practice,” she answers. Beside her, Scott bursts into laughter. 

 

“I don’t know that that’s entirely true,” he says, once the crowd quiets down. “But we do take our practices really seriously. That’s how Ms. Night Owl made herself get up at before dawn for all those years.”

 

“Tessa,” Ellen starts, turning towards her, “is that true? Did you have to force yourself out of bed to go skate with this guy?” She points to Scott with a jerk of her thumb. “I bet he doesn’t look this good at five in the morning, does he?”

 

They’re getting closer to The Question, Tessa can feel it. Scott brushes her shoulder with his, a reminder that they’re in this together. She continues on. “You’d be surprised! Scott always looks pretty good.”

 

“Aw, T,” he adds. “She’s lying, though. I’m a hot mess in the morning. Tess’s the one who always looks like a million bucks, am I right?”

 

“She does look gorgeous—actually, you both look really nice, but I have to say I would’ve preferred to see you two in some of those amazing costumes you’re so used to.” Behind them, a collage of some of their previous costumes flashes by. “Now you don’t normally wear jewelry on the ice, right?”

 

Tessa’s stomach drops. “No, not really,” she says, acutely aware of what’s happening. She balls her left hand into a fist out of self-preservation. 

 

“So no rings or anything like that?” 

 

Scott stiffens beside her. Maybe he’s reconsidering? “Nope,” Tessa says, trying desperately to sound breezy. 

 

“Okay, I thought so. Because I saw that ring on your finger, Tessa—” the audience sucks all of the air out of the room with their collective gasp “—and thought it might be part of your costuming.”

 

Remembering Scott’s face last night, just how elated and lovestruck he looked slipping the ring onto her finger, Tessa shakes her head. “It’s new.”

 

“Scott, you look like you want to explain,” Ellen says, grinning ear to ear. “Go on!”

 

He clears his throat, takes Tessa’s hand in his, and looks out across the crowd. “It is new. Very new, in fact. As in, I just gave it to her last night.”

 

“Now, I don’t speak French, but according to my producers—the multilingual devils—you denied being a couple in an interview last week. I think we have a clip.” Ellen turns to the screen behind them and Tessa hears herself saying, _non, nous ne sommes pas un couple._ Scott laughs, then squeezes her hand, and she knows this is the right move. For him.

 

For them. 

 

“We’ve denied a lot of things, but I don’t think we can deny that this partnership has been confusing, even to us, a lot of the time.” 

 

Tessa nods. “The understatement of the century,” she says, remembering so many teenage freakouts, because _oh God, when did Scott start looking like that?_ Or the rotten feeling in her gut every time he brought a girlfriend to watch them compete. Their is a story that’s anything but straightforward. 

 

“We’ve spent the better part of twenty years trying to figure out exactly what we are to each other—and while I don’t want to get too personal—it’s safe to say we’ve finally got it down.”

 

“You don’t want to get too personal?” Ellen asks, eyes wide. “You just came out as an engaged couple on my show!”

 

Tessa has to laugh, because she’s right. This is in direct opposition to everything they’ve ever said. “I’m the private one of us,” she starts, “and I think it needed to be the right time for me to want to come a little further into the limelight.”

 

“So can we expect a reality TV show anytime soon?”

 

“Already did one of those!” Scott says, turning to look at her. “I don’t think we’re looking to revisit that.”

 

“We’re not,” Tessa adds. “But maybe being a little more forthcoming won’t be the worst thing in the world.” 

 

Ellen laughs. “I hope not!” She nods to herself, then says, “I just have one request from you two, if you don’t mind.”

 

“Do we have a choice?” Tessa asks, finally feeling like herself. Scott snorts. 

 

“Well, not really. Can you just say—in French, please—that you’re engaged?”

 

Cacophonous laughter erupts from the audience. “I have to keep my ratings up!” Ellen adds like a justification, even though she’s smiling wickedly. 

 

“Oh man,” Scott starts, “I don’t know that I can do that.” He looks at Tessa, eyes warm like they were last night. “Can you?”

 

She bites her lip, feeling Scott’s thumb running across her ring. “I think I got this,” she says, feeling an eerie sense of déjà vu. This time, there’s no wine, no translators, and no prepped answer. But, sitting beside the man she loves, really and truly _adores,_ in a dress they could make work for an impromptu wedding—a coincidence, though she doubts anyone will believe her later—it feels right. 

 

“Nous sommes fiancés.”

 

The audience cheers louder than anything Tessa’s ever heard, but she doesn’t care because Scott’s leaning over to kiss her and they’re going to be all over Twitter tomorrow, but it doesn’t matter. She’s pretty sure Ellen’s in the process of bringing out an ordained minister or a mascot or new car, but all Tessa can focus on is Scott, doing that crying-laughing thing he always talks about her doing. 

 

He’s right. It is a great sound. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have you SEEN the picture of them from ellen's snapchat? dressed like ellen's about to officiate their damn wedding i'm mad. anyways, thanks for reading! comments are everything, and feel free to say hi on tumblr (baenakinskywalker) :D

**Author's Note:**

> i. uh. have one or two more ideas for VM fics, so. let me know if you're interested in that. i'm baenakinskywalker on tumblr and baenakinskyguy on twitter, though i'm less active there. feel free to say hi!
> 
> (thank u for reading this self indulgent mess!)


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